


Protector

by heffalumps



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13231968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heffalumps/pseuds/heffalumps
Summary: Alistair comforts his Warden after she has a nightmare.





	Protector

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff prompt: I’ll always be there to protect you (from @bandaidfaerie on tumblr - thank you so much for prompting me, darling! <3). This also marks the first time ever that I've written Alistair x Warden. Oh my word. It certainly took me a while.

“No, please… Please, don’t… Stop… No…”

Moira’s muffled cries tore at Alistair’s heart. He knew what she was dreaming about. He had been there, too - so many times he’d already lost count. He had heard the call and seen the bared fangs of the Archdemon. He had believed there was no escape until he had been jolted awake by his own scream, only to discover it had all been a terrible nightmare.

Only Duncan’s voice echoing in his mind kept Alistair from reaching over and shaking Moira awake: “She has to learn, Alistair. She has to get used to it.” As they all had had to.

Moira cried out again, turning fitfully in her bedroll so Alistair could finally see her face, the tears streaming from her eyes and the sobs wracking her body -  and, worst of all, the sheer, unbridled terror written across her face.

Even Duncan’s orders were barely enough to restrain Alistair. The need to help her rose from deep inside him, stronger than even the last wisdom imparted to him by his dead mentor. How wrong could it be, just this once, to spare her from this? She had already been through so much… but just as he was about to give in to his temptation, Moira cried out and sat bolt upright. Her shoulders heaving and her eyes frantic, she looked wildly around the campsite, trying to get her bearings.

“Moira. I’m here,” Alistair said quietly, not wanting to scare her. “More bad dreams, huh?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice regardless. “Alistair?”

“Yes. I’m here.”

“I saw… I saw it again.”

“I know.”

“How can I… How can _I_ ever defeat _that?_ ” Alistair could hear the panic rising in Moira’s voice, see it in the trembling of her shoulders.

“I’ll always be there to protect you, Moira. Every step of the way,” he reassured her gently.

“How can I trust in that?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Alistair looked away, stung. How could she doubt the truth of his words? No sooner had the question entered his mind than he had already answered it: she doubted him because she didn’t know otherwise. Her entire life, Moira had been tossed around, unwanted and uncared for. She didn’t know how lovely she was. She couldn’t see the loyalty she inspired in others. And, most of all, she didn’t know he thought about her every waking moment. She didn’t know that he ached to take her in his arms and kiss her. She didn’t know that he loved her, because he hadn’t yet told her.

“I…” The words were on the tip of his tongue, so close to being spoken that he was surprised she couldn’t feel them hanging in the air between them. He reached inside the pack beside him, almost absentmindedly. His fingers grasped the stem of the dried-up and shriveled rose from poor, lost Lothering that he’d been carrying around for weeks… considering. Considering if he was finally ready to give it to her. If he was brave enough to tell her how he really felt about her. “Moira, I…”

Alistair turned to meet her gaze, but what he saw within stopped him in his tracks. Her eyes were the eyes of a girl without direction. A girl who had lost her home - not only once, but twice over. Alistair remembered what it felt like to belong nowhere, and he had found his home with the Wardens.

He let out the breath he’d been holding. His hand unclenched, and the rose fell back into the depths of his pack. More than him, more than his love, Moira needed a home. She needed the Wardens. And Alistair… Alistair could give that to her.

And so instead of the words he’d been meaning to say, Alistair reached over and took her hand. Twining their fingers together, he gave her a small grin. “We’re joined together by an oath, aren’t we? We have each other’s backs. Against Darkspawn, against the Archdemon, even against Morrigan. That’s what we do in the Wardens.”

At that, Moira smiled.

He may have been ready to tell her - but she wasn’t ready to hear it. Not yet. Perhaps, one day, he could say the words he was aching to say, and she would hear them and smile at him - not _him, the Other Warden_. Him, _Alistair._

Until then, it was enough to be here for her.


End file.
